Somewhere On the Side
by pancakesareking
Summary: SLASH[FreddyZack] Zack is the center of Freddy’s world. Freddy is the center of Zack’s world. Somewhere on the side is everything else.


Bonjour, duckies! 

Title: Somewhere On the Side

Pairing: Freddy Jones/Zack Mooneyham 

Rating: R 

Summary: Zack is the center of Freddy's world. Freddy is the center of Zack's world. Somewhere on the side, is everything else. 

Dedication: To Chris. Give me my huggles back! This one's for you.

Disclaimer: I don't own School of Rock. Song is "Contrast and Compare" by Bright Eyes. 

Enjoy. 

~Somewhere on the Side~

Somewhere between the keg and the couch, Freddy didn't want to be at the party anymore. The sweating plastic cup felt ice cold in his numb hand. Around him, the crowd buzzed excitedly like a swarm of bees, their voices mixing together. 

Five beers before, he still hadn't wanted to be there. His eyes searched the crowd for Zack, hopelessly, it seemed. The guitarist was probably chatting up the lead guitarist of the band playing that night, which had announced they were taking a beer break five minutes ago. It was just some local band that played pretty good. Zack had really just admired the lead guitarists guitar, and had expressed that to Freddy several times.

Freddy wished Zack could just realize he had a better guitar so they could leave. Modest Zack Mooneyham would never think he had something better, though. Well, no out loud. Zack could be a confident guy when he wanted to be.

"Come on, let's go home." And then Zack was there, hand warm on Freddy's elbow, and Freddy wanted to make some sort of super-hero joke, but he didn't feel like talking. He didn't feel like moving at all.

"Yeah," he responded, barely audible over the multitude of partying teens. Zack leant forward to hear him as he muttered, "home." 

Home was a dilapidated apartment in the center of the city sandwiched between other rundown apartment buildings. Sure, they could afford a mansion, but somehow the tiny apartment seemed better. More personal. Everything was familiar, the were no surprises. On the outside, that's why it was so perfect.

But really, it's because in that cramped apartment, it's just Freddy and Zack.  

[Contrast and compare between the busy ones 

_And the ones that don't care_]

Another night, another party. It was different this time, though; they were the entertainment. Katie kept her fingers glued to her bass, and her eyes glued on a guy across the room. Like all party gigs, it was just the three of them. Zack was singing a song he had written a few months back, and Freddy was banging the drums like it was keeping him alive. He supposed in a way it was. 

Freddy didn't even know whose house he was in. As far as he knew, he was probably a friend of the cousin's mother's dog trainers' best friend who sold illegal substances to the boy or girl throwing the party. Which pissed him off, because thinking of shit like that have him headaches.

In the words of a teenybopper, it was a "hoppin' party" which Freddy supposed was good. As long as the house wasn't full of wasted poser's turning down weed and sipping their beers until they were buzzed enough to dance topless on the coffee table. Which had actually happened at one of their gigs. It was a pretty traumatic experience for everyone involved.

Several girls stumbled forward, their hair pushed up into sloppy buns; faces caked in glitter and make-up. The beers they held sloshed onto the floor, but it didn't matter, it wasn't their house. Freddy watched them wink and smile at Zack, who looked straight ahead. At the drum solo, he turned, and their eyes met. 

Freddy started drumming harder, a smirk on his face. He began banging his head, letting his yellow goggles slide down his forehead to hand crookedly on his face. A small smile lit Zack's lips. It was the smile he refused to give the girls smiling at him in vain. Freddy smiled back softly and mouthed, "I love you." 

Zack looked away, small smile still on his lips. Then he began singing again.

[Until there is no one that you really know 

_So I drift through these days of appointments and promises made_]

 On the dull surface of the fridge, under a large assortment of magnets were all of the important things in their lives. Somewhere between Pizza Hut coupons and one of Billy's sketches was a crumpled sheet of paper with a typed message on it. Zack noticed it when he went for a glass of O.J.   

It had both his and Freddy's names on it. So naturally his curiosity was piqued. He pulled the sheet out from underneath a guitar shaped magnet—the one signifying reminders—and read it. The he looked over to Freddy, who was sprawled on the couch reading a magazine.

"You have a dentist appointment." 

Freddy looked up from his magazine. "When?" 

"Uh..." Zack held the sheet of paper closer to his face, "Yesterday. Shit, and I had one last week." 

"Weird."

It happened a lot. More often than not, Freddy would sigh and pull Zack into the bathroom. It always ended in the other boy laughing breathlessly as Freddy 'hmm-ed' and 'oh-ed' while looking in his mouth. Then he would brush Zack's teeth, against Zack's protest that he had brushed twenty minutes before, and that he didn't want to be treated like a child.

Regardless, he would do as told ("spit, you moron, you're foaming at the mouth.") and give an open mouth smile when he was finished. Then the role-play was reversed, and Zack got to be the dentist. Freddy hated being the patient, but he still smiled throughout the process. Sometimes he told Zack that he should give up guitar and go into dentistry.

Then they would kiss, slow and languid, against the cracked mirror, trying their hardest not to knock over the toothbrushes and toothpaste. There were no words during those moments, just the sound of lips parting, breath quickening. Sometimes, Zack suspected Freddy skipped their dentist appointments on purpose. 

In the cramped bathroom of their cramped apartment, they shared magical mint kisses and groped like thirteen-year-olds. Shit like that never happened at the dentist. So it was more than likely that Freddy really did skip the appointments on purpose.

To be honest, he didn't mind at all, and smiled brightly when Freddy sighed and pulled him toward the bathroom.

[_They will all end up broken and quickly replaced. _

_Weeks are slow, days drag on_;]

Mid-July sucked. Skin stuck to the furniture, ice melted at alarming rates, and it was hard to practice any instrument for too long without getting dehydrated. All over the city, people were praying for winter.

The weatherman had predicted a heat wave, and a heat wave there was. No practice that day, just lounging in the house. Back beyond the living room and the kitchen, where dishes were stacked in the sink, was the bedroom. It was cluttered with a bed, a drum set, and Zack's precious guitar, which had it's own pillow on the floor next to the amp box.

Above the bed, the ceiling fan rotated leisurely. Blankets and pillows were strewn carelessly on the floor. On the sweat-dampened sheets they made love. Freddy's ankles were wrapped gently around Zack's undulating back, his arms were tangled in the dark brown hair that hung inches from his face. One tan hand was gripping his hip, the other was stroking Freddy's throbbing dick. 

The window was open, futile in its attempts to let in a breeze. All that wafted into the small room were the excited cries of playing children down on the street. Eleven floors down, they doubted the children could hear their moans and lazy kisses. 

Never once did they look away from one another; Zack's hands never rose above Freddy's flat stomach, and Freddy's hands never strayed from Zack's hair. There were quiet moans, muttered phrases, but never 'I love you's.' Lips may have formed the words, and hands may have signed them, but they were never spoken aloud.

"Mm, slower, baby." 

"Like this?" Zack slid out slowly, almost completely, before entering his lover once more, in an overly drawn out movement. 

Under him, Freddy smiled. "Yeah, lover boy, just like that."

Outside, children kept on playing.  When they climaxed, together, they stared at one another, and nowhere else. Zack broke the eye contact when he gently pulled out of Freddy. Lying in bed, in the damp sheets, they shared a glass of ice water, and bickered over who got the last ice cube.

It was horribly domestic inside, horribly hot outside, and horribly nice to be in love in Mid-July. Any time of the year, really. [Even practice and parties seem long But I found myself going 

_I guess there's nothing to do_]

Freddy glanced desperately at his watch. He had nowhere to be but there, in the studio. On the other side of the glass, Gordon was arguing with the tech man. Zack's lips were precariously close to the microphone, and Freddy pretended that he was standing there, kissing Zack, instead of numbing his ass for hours on end. 

It wasn't the same drum set he kept at home, the one with the worn-in seat. The one he was currently seated at was a dark blue color that shined in the dim lighting, while his set was red and never shined at all. Dewey had insisted he use the studios—said it was nicer, played better. Freddy told him it didn't matter to him, but he knew Zack could tell he was lying. But it—

"Okay. We're ready" The voice of the tech man buzzed around their heads. 

Freddy tapped his drumsticks together. "One, two, one-two-three," And they were off. Zack had told Freddy this song was about them. It was fast paced, with a slow, heart-breaking middle, and picked up the pace near the end again. It wasn't the tempo that was based on their relationship; it was the lyrics. Walks on the beach were mentioned; sunsets, lazy ceiling fans, parties at midnight, fucking in closets backstage at concerts—yeah, that was them, all right. 

As he continued his steady rhythm, Freddy thought back the to first time they fucked at a concert. It was a year before, in New York, when they were seventeen. They had just finished up, run off stage, and Freddy watched as Zack gave Katie and Lawrence and Dewey a high-five. Then he hugged Freddy, and on a whim, Freddy had kissed him. The utility closet was behind them, and the band wasn't paying attention. Ah, that was a good memory. Their inexperienced fumbles in that poorly lit closet, the cheers right outside the doors. 

Freddy would have grinned had he not been so focused on the symbol. If he squinted enough, he thought he could see his reflection in the highly reflective surface.

[Oh well 

_Group of kids, line of cars,]_

If Freddy could call anyone at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday, he would put himself on the end of the list of three people. Because frankly, Freddy didn't see any point in making phone calls until after noon. It was illogical. Seriously. So why didn't whoever was calling him just take a hint and hang up?

The phone wouldn't stop ringing. Over and over it rang, and at one point, Freddy entertained the idea of answering it. He and Zack spent forty dollars on that answering machine, though; he didn't want it going to waste. Still, Zack was asleep in their bed. The phone was only a muffled sound in the bedroom, but he didn't want to risk waking Zack up. He had been more wasted than Freddy after a party he had dragged them too, and had stayed up a good four hours after Freddy had fallen asleep.  

Freddy would have stayed up with him, but the sex had worn him out. He had been on top, doing most of the work, while Zack moaned and writhed underneath him. While he was sleeping, he was pretty sure Zack had spent a good amount of time playing his guitar, because Freddy had dreamt about it. That, and the guitar was wrapped lovingly in Zack's arms when Freddy woke up. Which, he admitted grudgingly, made him jealous.

Which was why he took pictures of the cute couple at rest. It really was cute, except the way Zack was mumbling incoherently and stroking the strings. That part was just funny, and Freddy took advantage of that fact and laughed quietly. 

"Real Kodak moment, sweetheart," he whispered into Zack's hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Sometimes he was glad they splurged and spent money on useless things. The Polaroid camera had been a whim, and it proved to be useful that morning. He had taken plenty of early morning pictures of Zack before, and finally had enough to make a photo album. He put it on a single page, before deciding to make a page dedicated to the band. That's when he decided they needed a dog, so he could dedicate a page to it. So he dog-eared a page for the hypothetical dog, and continued to glue his memories into the book.

He told himself that it wasn't the _gayest_ way he could spend his time. 

In the main hall, on the small table sat the phone. Next to that was the answering machine, which was now equipped with a blinking red light. Freddy bet five bucks it was an invitation to a party. By the end of the day, he owed himself five dollars. [More will show up after the bars close 

_There's this boredom that drowns everything_]

Back again in the belly of a drunken monster. Somewhere, a fight was going on, and across the room on the couch some kids were passing around a joint. They were laughing, and kissing, and some people were singing. Freddy grabbed a beer. Past the couch full of fucked up morons and through the kitchen was the bathroom. Surprisingly, there was no line. There was, however, someone in the bathroom.

In the bathtub lay Zack, smiling serenely while staring at the wall. Oh yeah, he was drunk. It wasn't just the smile that tipped him off, either; the bathtub was full of water. Freddy would never understand why Zack always had that secret little smile on his lips when he was smashed, though. Freddy locked the bathroom door and joined his lover. The other boy opened his legs in invitation.

And who was Freddy to turn down such a polite request? 

"Hey, lover boy. What's with the bath?"

Half-lidded eyes looked his way. "It's cold as shit out there, Freddy. I just needed a hot bath." 

"In your clothes?" Freddy laughed. And yeah, maybe he was a little drunk too. 

"Yeah, in my clothes." 

"The water is freezing cold."

Zack frowned and was defensive all the sudden. "Yeah, well, I've been in here a while."

"Your dick must be the size of a raisin."

"Why don't you find out, baby?" Hips bucked against his. And even though he was half-hard already, Freddy couldn't get it up and keep it there in a freezing cold bathtub.

"Let's go find a bed."

Hips rubbed languidly for a few minutes. Then, Freddy stood and hoisted up his boyfriend by the arm. Getting out of bathroom was easy enough, but finding a bedroom was a bit of a challenge. Most of them were already "taken." Upstairs was a room, though, with a smallish bed covered in stuffed animals. 

"Hmm." 

They were quicker than usual, not to mention louder. Around them, cotton-filled animals watched them with glossy plastic eyes. Fortunately they didn't notice anything but each other as they discarded their sopping clothing. Buzzing and happily so, they switched positions, Freddy on top the first time. Second round, Zack called the shots. They fucked each other in a tiny, squeaking bed, in front of an audience of voyeuristic animals.

The inside joke of the week was that they screwed like rabbits right next to stuffed rabbits. Ha, ha. 

[_Bottles break, music plays, conversations competing for space_

_I look for a corner or a quieter room_]

"The fuck?" 

Freddy stirred under the covers. He moaned, "Fuck off, 'm shleepin."

Zack had learned over their year and a half together that Freddy hated being poked. _Really_ hated it. Poking also happened to be the easiest way to wake Freddy from one of his "light naps." The guy slept like a fucking log. His skin turned a light pinkish color as Zack pressed his finger into his arm repeatedly. 

"If my drums aren't on fire, I'm going to kick your ass."

A hand trailed gently down his cheek. "You're so fucking _pretty_ when you sleep."

Freddy swatted blindly around. "Am not." 

"It's a compliment, jackass. Come on, I just want to know about this book." 

Book? "Book?" 

"Yeah, you made a photo album."

Shit. Freddy's eyes flew open, and immediately shut again from the light. After a few seconds of rapid blinking, he opened his eyes. His ass still hurt from the night before, but he could deal with it. That was the last time they were trying a position like that, though. He had hidden that photo album months ago. How could Zack have found it?

"I was looking for my green guitar pick when I found this in the couch cushions." Of course he had been looking for his green pick, Freddy thought, it was Zack's favorite. Just figured he'd find the photo album while looking for his pick.

"It's not finished yet. It's _supposed_ to be your Christmas present." Christmas was two months away, though. At the time, the couch had seemed the most logical place to hide it. "Can you just put it back and pretend you never found it?" 

Zack kissed his ear. "Sure. Go back to sleep." He left the room quietly, not even bothering to shut the door. Then he disappeared around the corner in the direction of the couch.

And Freddy did as he was told.

[_There's no heat in this house_

_I can't breath with these words in my mouth_]

When Zack awoke, Freddy was curled around him. Or he was curled around Freddy. One of them was curled around the other. Several pokes to Freddy's cheek confirmed that he was in fact asleep, and not just pretending. It had happened before, and it usually ended up surprising the hell out of Zack. Actually, it usually ended up leading to a morning romp in the sheets. 

There were several layers of blankets sheltering them from the cold. Even with the windows locked shut, and the fan hanging like a still-life portrait above the bed, the cold somehow seeped into the room. Burrowed under the mountain of cotton warmth, Zack found himself wishing the heat wave would return. Beside him, Freddy slept on, shivering slightly in his sleep. 

Zack's hands moved on their own, across the smooth cheeks facing him. His thumb trailed over a dusty blond eyebrow, and he had to smile. No matter how beautiful Freddy was, his eyes would always be his best feature. And, Zack thought with a leer, his dick was pretty nice too. That particular train of thought just made him horny, in a sleepy way. He was still tired, and had no idea what time it was.

The large red numbers on the alarm clock said something like 3:28, but it could have been anything. The sleep-mussed spikes of Freddy's hair blocked any clear vision of the alarm clock. Must have been sometime early, though, because the sun hadn't risen yet. Of course, in winter, it didn't really rise until near ten o'clock. Well, ten was when Zack usually acknowledged that the sun had risen, which in his book counted as the sunrise. For Freddy, sunrise was usually around seven. 

"Freddy," he whispered. Suddenly, he couldn't remember why he woke up in the first place. Freddy didn't stir. Oh well. It was probably better that way. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. There wasn't a sound as he whispered, "I love you, Freddy Jones." 

Yeah, it was probably better that way.

[_But I'm not going to say them_

_Yeah, I've made that mistake before_]

Halfway to the pet store, Freddy pulled his car over to the side of the road. In all of his preparations for the future dogs' photo album page, he had forgotten one very important thing: He didn't even like dogs. Sure, some were cute, but most of the dogs he'd had the displeasure of meeting were slobbery, humping, hairy beasts. Which was really, really gross. 

Picturing himself with a cat curled up in his lap was a hell of a lot easier than a happy situation involving the hypothetical dog and his leg. But, Zack liked dogs. Christ, he was more in love than he thought. Finished with his epiphany, Freddy pulled back onto the road and tried to remember where exactly the pet store was located. A little voice in the back of his head reminded him he could afford one of the fancy cars with a built-in navigator. He pushed it away all throughout the ride to the pet store.

Each cage held a different kind of puppy. One of them was kind of cute with long, droopy ears and big brown eyes. It looked depression inducing, though, which was why Freddy forced himself to look away from the cage. And that was when he saw it; the perfect puppy. The label on the cage said it was a German Sheperd, which sounded like a punk rock kind of dog.

"Hey, clerk, I want this puppy." 

The girl at the counter, with hot pink hair, looked at him disdainfully for a moment, before recognition lit in her eyes. Also, Freddy had pulled a wad of cash out of his coat pocket. That got the girls magenta lips smiling. "Sure" she said around her bubble gum. Really, Freddy thought, how cliché could a person be? She pulled a set of keys out of her apron pocket and unlocked the cage. Little German Sheperd looked happy to be getting out. He was only in pink-hairs' arm for a moment, and then Freddy had him.

The blue-eyed ball of energetic fluff flailed in his arms, desperate to lick his face. Already the little thing reminded him of Zack. He paid the girl and walked away, his eyes fixed on the puppy in his arms. 

Their eyes met and Freddy smiled. So did the puppy. "Hey there, Spazzy Mcgee."

[_On the stairs, she grabs my arm, says what's up_

_Where you been, is something wrong_?] 

Another gig at another party. Big surprise. Even from his spot behind his drums, Freddy could see the tiny white and gray hairs all over the back of Zack's black shirt. Seemed his lover had been ignoring him for the puppy again. He grinned. Spazzy was already eating dog chow, and could bark something that sounded a lot like the alphabet. Sometimes they even drank beer together, just the three of them in that cramped little apartment. 

Two months before, on Christmas morning, Zack had come out of the bedroom wearing only his boxers and shivering. Under the tree was a small mountain of gifts from different members of the band, some of them marked as presents for them to share. No one really knew about them, so he figured them for board games and other stuffs of the like.

It was supposed to be the last present, but Spazzy had started barking sometime between Summer's present and Ned's present. Zack had been shocked into silence before grinning and saying, "So that's why there were dog biscuits in the closet."

Thus began the "Spazzy obsession." Freddy had taken plenty of Polaroid's, especially when he was naked and underneath Zack. Catching that look on Zack's face on film had been one of the best pictures he'd ever taken. Then Spazzy had appeared, to the embarrassment of both of them. And soon thereafter, the hypothetical dog page was filled. 

With Spazzy lying between them in the bed, she—it was a big surprise to both of them—was the first to hear them say it out loud.

"I love you." 

"Yeah. I love you too." 

Spazzy, tongue lolling about, smiled up at them when they spoke. And things had finally fallen into place.

[_I try to just smile, and say everything's fine_.] 

Katie stopped Freddy halfway down the stairs. "You're acting weird. You okay?" 

Two songs into the party, they had called a break. Zack had been pulled off to the side by some kids who looked high, and Freddy was thirsty as shit. Lawrence had stayed on stage, looking awkwardly out of place. Had Freddy been a sympathetic person, he would have cared. Unable to permeate the crowd to get to Zack, he went upstairs and watched from there as the guitarist signed a giggling girl's breasts. 

Freddy was about to answer, when Zack caught his eye from across the room. His lover smiled before mouthing, "I love you." 

Freddy looked back at Katie, a huge grin on his face. Amazingly, he wasn't drunk for once. Actually, he had been on his way to the keg, parched from his Zack-watching. All night, he could hear it calling his name, saying 'Freddy, come pump me, Freddy.' But he figured maybe he could read Zack's mind, and that was what had happened. Either way, he was bound to get drunk. 

"Yeah. I'm good. In fact I'm..." He looked over at Zack. "Perfect."

He saw nothing but Zack, who was standing in a crowd of faceless strangers. Zack was the center of his world. Next to him, Katie's voice was a far away whisper, and he didn't even try to listen. Zack was the perfect little center of his imperfect world. Somewhere on the side, was everything else. And everything else was nothing important at the moment.

He left Katie standing there, talking to thin air. People parted as he walked towards Zack. As casually as he could manage, he threw an arm around Zack's shoulder and leaned in close to say, "I love you too."

Somewhere on the side, the crowd was unknowingly watching two people in love.

~Fin~ 

So. Good, bad, what? I don't know if it made any sense, but I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope it wasn't bad.

Roses are red, violets are blue, go ahead, and leave a review! 


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